The Dragomir Princess
by Book.Wretched
Summary: (AU) Rosemarie Dragomir is the last Moroi of her line, and would do almost anything to maintain her bad reputation. After her parents finally put their foot down, how will the Princess fare when forced to face her responsibilities? And what on earth is she going to do with this new guardian?
1. Chapter 1: Over the Garden Wall

I land heavily in the dirt behind the rose bush.

 _How apt,_ I think drily to myself as I shimmy my short silver skirt back down over my thighs, where it got rucked up from climbing the stone wall. The matching silver heels are sadly still on the other side, but I couldn't think of a way to get them and myself back onto the property. There's no way I can throw accurately with this much tequila in my bloodstream.

Mmm, blood. I could do with some of that. The sunlight, while pleasantly tingly on my sensitive Moroi skin, seems to have transformed my throat into the Sahara desert.

Keen to retreat into the tinted confines of the indoors, I stumble barefoot out of the flower bed and towards the general direction of one of the front doors that dance alluringly before me. There's something I have to remember about the front door, but it remains irritatingly out of reach, held aloft by the tequila. Or maybe the vodka. Or the weed?

I smile to myself. It was a good night.

 _Front door, front door…_ My smile morphs into a frown as I try to remember. I think it might be important. Oh well, maybe it'll come to me after a shower and some sleep. And some food and blood. Mmmm, blood. I wonder what time the feeders wake up?

I use one of my strangely disconnected hands to get my keys out of my pocket. It takes me a second to realise that this skirt doesn't have pockets. Man, was it always this _short_? I'm pretty sure it covered more than just my ass when I put it on.

Keys, keys, where did I put my keys? Aha! In my clutch! The silver one, to match my shoes and skirt. Now where did I put my clutch?

After several drunken moments, I manage to locate the clutch that is slung over my shoulder. I fumble with the clasp, but eventually I pry it open.

 _Okay, let's see. Tampon, condom, cellphone, pen, flavoured condom- SCORE! Lighter, hair slide, Hello Kitty… Oh wait, that's my keychain!_

Luckily I only have like three keys on this thing or I would be screwed. With much scratching, squinting and not-so-silent cursing, I get the key in the lock and turn. There's a moment of soaring pride as I push the door open, only to be greeted by the piercing gaze of a guardian.

Right, that's what I was trying to remember. The front door is always guarded.

I grin up at the formidable figure, turning on my infamous charm. "Any chance you'll let me go to bed and we can just forget about this whole thing?"

His face doesn't change, which is pretty standard for a guardian, but I take it as a 'no' in this instance.

I try again. "And is there any chance you won't tell the headmistress?"

Nothing. Not even the faintest hint of a smile.

"Fine," I sigh. "At least I gave it a shot."

It doesn't take long for the headmistress herself to emerge in a tartan dressing gown, clearly not pleased to have been woken. She takes one look at me from her position on the stairs and her face contorts in disgust. She doesn't look the least bit surprised.

"Guardian Keane, please get Rose a cup of coffee. We'll be in my office."

I'm annoyed at the way she orders him around—and make no mistake, it was an order. The 'please' was just an illusion. But I can't exactly tell her that in my current predicament, not that there's ever really a good time to disagree with her. And so, I have no choice but to follow her up the stairs.

The office that we enter isn't actually _the_ office. It only has one client, actually, and that's me. I believe it was an arts and craft room before I discovered my true calling; the role of the rebellious teenage daughter. And so my mother has two offices, both of which I am frequently visiting, though they look much the same. The same dull fancy wallpaper, dark wooden furnishings and the exact same reprimanding expression. I've heard tell that it is possible for someone to be called into the headmistress' office for a good reason, but I myself have never had the pleasure.

The only difference between this office and the one inside the Academy is that this large dark desk houses several framed photographs of the family, including several of me at various adorable ages. I've always assumed that they're there to remind me of how far I've come.

Ah, the good old days when I didn't sneak out the house to drink and party.

"Rose, sit."

She manages to look formidable even in her pyjamas, though I suppose that's hardly surprising since she always manages to be intimidating despite her unusually small stature. I have her to thank for my own ridiculous height; five foot seven is practically midget territory amongst the Moroi.

I do as instructed, mostly because the room is spinning rather alarmingly. The antique wooden chair that I plonk down on is as uncomfortable as it looks, and I'm pretty sure it was some medieval torture device before it found its home here. Strangely enough, the room continues to move around once I'm seated.

The guardian enters with my coffee, silently setting the mug on the desk in front of me before egressing just as silently, closing the door behind him.

"Drink," orders my mother.

There's nothing better to do, and the coffee smells damn good, so I take a tentative sip.

Warmth floods into my mouth, rushing directly upwards to better revitalise those few remaining brain cells that I haven't managed to pickle in alcohol yet. It soothes my dry throat a little, though I'm still in dire need of some blood.

By the time I drain the dregs of the beverage, enough reason has returned to me that I am somewhat able to appreciate the situation I've landed myself in.

Going through the front door, what a rookie move! And those shoes were expensive, I'll have to go back and fetch them tomorrow… or later today I suppose given the hour. That is, assuming I'm left in one piece to do so.

Across the great expanse of her desk, my mother fixes me with those piercing blue eyes that I sometimes wish I'd inherited.

"So," she begins. "Let's just get this straight. This evening, we ate dinner together, watched some TV and then you said goodnight, and went upstairs because, and I quote, you were tired?"

I just sit in silence, knowing that this is far from over.

"The next part is just guesswork, but you've done this so many times before that I think I can fill in the gaps fairly well. You did your hair and makeup, pulled on an outfit so skimpy that it's hardly deserving of the name, and then, I'm assuming, you climbed out the window. Am I getting this right so far?"

You couldn't pay me enough to answer.

"You headed to a party where you drank and smoked yourself stupid, stayed out until all hours of the morning, then stumbled blindly home and climbed the wall, in the blazing sunlight, after which you were so utterly wasted that you couldn't even remember not to use the front door. Have I left anything out?"

Well, there were several activities at the party that she missed out, but I'm hardly going to set things straight for her. "Uh, no, that about covers it."

She looks briefly up towards the ceiling, as if asking for divine intervention. No lightning bolt is sent from the heavens to smite me, so I have to assume that her prayer fell on deaf ears.

She pauses for a moment, then says: "I know this is not the first time you've done this. It's not even the first time you've been caught. And I will not tolerate this any longer."

I struggle against the reflex to roll my eyes. The worst thing she can do is ground me, and even that I can escape. Luckily, my mother doesn't know just how excellent my climbing skills are.

She studies my face for a few moments, not pleased with what she finds. I'm not surprised. I probably look smug and stoned. It's been a long time since I last attempted to live up to her ridiculously high standards, and I have since discovered that my talents lie rather in being a complete disappointment.

"It's late, you're drunk, we'll discuss this later. You go to bed and sleep it off, I need to phone your father."

Her tone gets my back up. By 'it', I assume she means my personality; something I haven't been able to sleep off in my seventeen years of life. Where does she get off, treating me like a child? Then pulling out the ever so threatening, 'your father and I will discuss this.' I find myself wishing he had been here, but his work calls him away fairly often. When it comes to choosing my favourite parent, there's very little competition.

Once inside my bedroom, I lock myself in. I'm sure my mother will have a great time hunting down the spare key when she tries to wake me up, thus giving me an extra fifteen minutes to sleep, and giving me some small amount of petty satisfaction. Too lazy to put my clothes away, I strip and leave them crumpled on the floor on my way to the shower.

I lather away the layers of smoke, dust and booze fumes from my skin and hair, replacing the foul odours of the excursion with the scent of my favourite orange and jasmine shampoo that my dad brought me from a faraway land.

I let my mind wander, dreaming of the day that I can escape to such a place. Somewhere where I don't have responsibilities or parents or some unreachable example that I'm supposed to set for the people I'm supposed to be better than. A place where nobody knows my name and I can get into as much trouble as I want.

Exhausted, I collapse into bed and roll myself up in the muted, down-filled world of my blankets. I close my eyes.

It feels like only a second has passed before I hear the dull thudding on my door.

"Rose! Rosemarie Dragomir, get up right now and open this door!"

After a few minutes of this, there comes the sound of grumbling and retreating footsteps. Smiling, I roll over.

Rose: 1, Mom: 0.

My good mood lasts until the exact moment that I open my eyes, upon which my head enacts its revenge upon me.

"Up!" my mother commands, ripping the blanket off the bed.

I curl myself into foetal position, shying away from the ridiculous amount of light in the room. The sun is setting, surely it should be darker than this? The sound that I emit is startlingly similar to that of a dying alpaca.

"I don't feel well," I groan.

Even my own voice sears through my tender brain, grating against my skull and making me wish for death.

"I'd be disappointed if you did. Get up, you're going to class."

My stomach roils at the mere thought, so I don't move. In fact, I don't think I ever want to move again.

"Rose, get up."

I stay where I am. The lady is 5"4' after all, what can she possibly do about it? I have never felt less like obeying her than I do in this moment, and that's really saying something.

"I'm going to count to three, and then you'd better be on your feet."

"Good for you," I grumble into my pillow, wincing as my head pays the price for my sass.

"One."

I roll my eyes behind closed eyelids, but I think she sees it anyway.

"Two."

Does she seriously think this is going to work? I doubt anything short of an anti-gravity chamber would be able to shift me in my current state.

"Three," she waits for a brief moment, but I think she's smart enough not to actually expect anything to happen. There's a resigned sigh, then: "I warned you."

I hear movement above me, and then the bed all around me is soaked in freezing cold water. In the next instant, I'm on my feet, swaying slightly and dripping wet.

"What the hell?" I rage, my splitting headache fuelling my anger.

"At least now you don't have to take a shower." Her tone is as dry as I am drenched.

I see red. The heat of my anger burns in my chest, and I carelessly give it permission to transform into something more. Flames leap up across my skin with a hiss. I make no attempt to control them as they get bigger and bigger, casting a red-orange glow over my mother's shocked expression as she flinches away. It's the first time I've broken through her composure in a long time. It's good to know she isn't completely immune.

I call my fire back once I'm dry, suppressing a satisfied smile at her reaction.

Her voice is choked with outrage. "Rose!"

I shrug. "What?"

"You've gone too far this time, Rosemarie!"

Her eyes are wide. If I didn't know better, I'd say she was afraid of me. She backs out the room, gaze never leaving my face. Something twists in my stomach.

I dress slowly, nursing my headache, but she doesn't come back to hurry me. In fact, when I eventually leave, she's nowhere in sight.

Our house is on the Academy grounds, so it's a short walk through the campus to get to the cafeteria. I pull my cocky, bad girl attitude over my face like a mask, but in my head I keep thinking about the events of the morning. Considering how hungover I am, it should be impressive that I was able to pull off that spell.

And it's perfectly ridiculous that she's so upset. Of all the terrible things I've done, including that time I stole a car and crashed it through the main gate, this is the thing that she freaks out over? The fact that I used a challenging spell that I have had to practice for months, and all because it could possibly be construed as offensive?

"How could you do that, Rose?" I grumble to myself in some approximation of my mother's voice as I fetch a tray and grab a donut. "Moroi magic is _sacred,_ Rose! It's a _gift_! How _dare_ you use it as anything other than the cute and harmless party tricks we use our magic for, which would make our ancestors roll in their graves?"

I slam my tray down on the table, receiving little satisfaction as the loud sound slices through my tender head.

"Somebody's in a good mood this morning."

My best friend smirks at me over the top of her algebra textbook.

"What did Janine do this time?" she asks with a smile.

I glower at her. "I went to Jesse Zeklos' party last night."

Her smile evaporates, and she groans. "Because why would you want to stay at home and study for the algebra test?"

The corners of my mouth twitch, despite my terrible mood.

I was an adorable kid; really cute, with my big brown doe eyes and dark hair, like a Disney princess. In fact, since I happen to be a princess, people always assumed that I was gentle and ladylike. That impression normally lasted about as long as it took for me to open my mouth.

Everyone was glad when the rowdiest, most mischievous kid in the class became friends with the actual angel; Vasilisa Dashkov. They thought she'd rub off on me, the fools. But despite being polar opposites in nearly every way, Lissa and I have been best friends for over ten years.

"Exactly," I reply, returning to our conversation. "So anyway, when I got home, I forgot about the guardian at the front door-"

"-No!" she gasps. "Rose, tell me you didn't!"

"Yup. I went through the front door at two o'clock in the morning, high as a kite and completely plastered."

She puts her head in her hands and groans.

"You shouldn't even be alive! What did Janine do?"

"Nothing yet," I shrug. "I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. But that's not the end of the woeful tale."

She raises her eyebrows. "There's more? Surely even the great Rose Dragomir cannot do anything worse than that?"

"Apparently I can. If anything, she reacted worse to what I did this morning."

"What else could you possibly achieve, as hungover as you are?"

"That's the thing, it wasn't even that bad. She threw water on me and I just dried myself off."

I pause, but she's not buying it.

"…Using elemental magic."

There's a second of silence, then: "You WHAT?!"

A hush falls over the cafeteria as numerous heads swivel our way, trying to listen in on our conversation.

"Ow," I wince, clutching my head. "Headache over here, can you not be so loud?"

Lissa leans forward and grabs my wrist, speaking in an agitated whisper. "What were you thinking?" Her face pales as another thought occurs to her. "Rose, did you hurt her?"

"Give me my arm back," I grumble, pulling it out of her grasp. "I had perfect control, but she completely freaked out. You should have seen her face. And besides, when do I ever think about what I'm doing?"

"This is different."

"Why? Why is it so different? I've done things so much worse than this, why is it this thing that she reacts to?"

"I know you've done your fair share of dumb things, but this was stupid, even for you. You could have done some _serious_ damage this time."

I recoil like she's slapped me. As far as I'm concerned, she might as well have. I stand up.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

I cut her off. "I'm late for class."

I stalk away without a backward glance, leaving in such a hurry that I forget I had meant to pay a visit to the feeders. My throat burns dully at the thought of the loss, but the sensation pales in comparison to the flames of my indignation.

I gave up on my mother a long time ago, but now Lissa's taking her side? For some stupid reason, I thought that maybe she'd be proud of me. It's not an easy spell to do, and I executed it flawlessly. I really should have known better than to expect so much.

* * *

Author's Note

* * *

 **Thank you so much for reading! Please leave a review to let me know what you liked and what you didn't. It's always fantastic to hear your feedback, especially when embarking on a new fic. Feel free to favourite and follow, too, as you see fit. I am not the strictest updater, and if you'd like to know when I do post, it's a good way to keep in the loop.  
**

 **I am really excited about this one. I've been writing it for a while, and though I've only got like two more chapters completed and I swore I'd finish my other fic before I started posting this one, I just couldn't sit on it any longer. And my self-worth is pretty fragile, so I get a kick out of compliments from strangers on the internet. Ha. Ha ha. The way that the dynamics shift fascinates me, and this is my first actual AU. If you saw any mistakes, please correct me, as it's currently unBeta'd.**

 **The VA universe and the characters therein are the sole intellectual property of Richelle Mead.**


	2. Chapter 2: Enter Dimitri

I lied, of course. My first class doesn't start for another fifteen minutes, and showing up this early would harm the reputation I've worked so hard to destroy. I'd also like some space from Lissa for a little bit, and she knows me well enough to know where to look for me. So I walk towards the one place I go when I need to let off steam; a place that's far away from all the Royals, including Lissa.

There's a closet in the corner of the gym where the dhampirs train. It's full of all sorts of guards and mats that I assume they use during class, but it provides a nice soft dark place away from all of the prying eyes, not to mention my Moroi friends. I've always found most Royals to be tiring.

I sit on the dusty floor and lean against the wall, trying my best to clear my mind as I breathe in the sweat-scented solitude. I reach inside my brain to the warmth that's never very far away and allow it to take over. Focussing on this feeling, I summon a tiny flame on the tip of my pinkie finger. It's something that I've found to be oddly comforting in the past.

I let my mind wander, allowing the flame to change from orange to purple to green and back again. Somewhere in the colours, I hear my internal monologue.

 _She is always pushing me to do better, to be better. I've never been the daughter that she wanted, and I know that I never will be. I've accepted it, even if she won't. But this is something that I excel at, that I take pride in. It's the one thing that I've actually had to work for, instead of been handed on a silver platter._

But the thing that gets me is that if I'd been an air user, or even a water user, she wouldn't have freaked out. There's such a stigma against elemental fire magic. Everyone looks into the flames and sees destruction, but only because they're not willing to look any closer. Sometimes I feel like they see me the same way. Maybe there's a reason that my temperament matches the element so well.

I don't know how much time has passed when there's a knock on the door.

"Is someone smoking in there?" calls a familiar voice.

I bury my vulnerability in a grin, pushing those thoughts to the back of my mind. "I'm always smokin', Ashford, that's why you like me so much."

A crack of light appears as the door opens, and I let the flame go out. Mason Ashford's face smiles down at me.

"Oh, hey, Rose. I was just about to start setting up for class. You need some help?"

"Thanks," I reply, taking the proffered hand. He hauls me to my feet, holding my hand just a moment longer than necessary.

"Anytime."

"I should probably get going," I say, suppressing a smile. "I don't want to be too late; I'm already in trouble."

"What else is new?" he laughs. "Okay, I guess I'll see you around. I'd tell you to be good if I thought you'd listen."

"But it's mostly because deep down you know that you don't want me to. I'll see you later, Mason."

I walk across the gym, adding a little extra sway to my hips for his benefit. When I'm outside once again in the fresh night air, I'm pleased to notice that my headache is gone. Once I've made sure that my feelings are safely tucked away, I almost feel happy.

"Miss Dragomir, you're late," Mrs Trotsky reprimands as I walk in. There's no real conviction in her voice, and so I put none in my reply.

"Sorry, Ma'am, I got held up."

There are several snickers from the class.

"I'm putting this on your record, young lady," she scolds while I take my seat at the back of the room.

"Go ahead, but I can't guarantee that there's any space left."

At this, the class erupts into laughter and Mrs Trotsky sighs. "Okay, let's not let Her Ladyship deprive us of any more of our education. Please turn to the next chapter in your textbooks."

There's a storm of rustling pages around me as the students comply.

In a sick turn of events, I receive my summons in the middle of the only lesson that I actually enjoy; Vampire History. That's not the actual name of the subject, of course, but I find that the addition of 'Vampire' makes it sound much more exciting. That, and we don't learn the same syllabus as the humans, so I think it's actually more fitting that way.

I would think that my mother planned this to further my punishment, but since she doesn't know the first thing about me, she sure as hell doesn't know what my favourite subject is. I write it off as Murphy's Law, and internally shake my fist at the universe.

The messenger interrupts Mr Peter mid-sentence as he stands in front of the class, regaling us all with tales of the hilarious sticky ends of various Moroi monarchs throughout history.

"I'm sorry, Mr Peter? I was sent to bring Rosemarie Dragomir to the Headmistress."

My teacher sighs and hunts through the faces of his students until his twinkling blue eyes connect with my own.

"Miss Dragomir, please take your things with you," he says. "And you should think about getting a frequent visitors' card. At least then you would get a free cup of coffee every once in a while."

"I'll look into it, Sir," I grin, before following the messenger out the door. I keep my attitude up, trying to form some mental armour before this confrontation. I have a feeling that it's going to be bad.

The Moroi intern that my mother sent is redundant. I've travelled the path to her office so frequently that I'm surprised I haven't worn a rut into the cobblestone yet. I suppose there is always the likelihood that I won't show up, but I hardly see what this scrawny intern could do about it if I made up my mind not to go. I have an amusing urge to simply sit down in the middle of the quad, just to see what she does, but I've tried my mother's patience enough for one day.

This office is almost the mirror image of the one at home, apart from the photos. Apparently, when she's at school she wants to associate with me as little as possible. I can't say I blame her much.

When I enter the room, there are two people present apart from the headmistress and her highly disapproving expression. One of them is a stranger, the other a welcome sight in the midst of all the hostility.

"Hey, Dad, welcome back!"

My father, dressed in a three-piece cream suit and peacock feather print scarf, pushes away from the wall he was leaning against to give me a hug.

"My trip would have been longer if it weren't for my delinquent daughter," he laughs, pressing a kiss into my hair.

My mother left her surname behind when she married Ibrahim Mazur the day after her twentieth birthday. My father is not royal himself, but still somehow possessed enough Dragomir blood to sire a daughter of the Dragomir line. It's kind of hard for me to imagine a version of my cold, proper mother that would get swept up in a whirlwind romance, let alone marry a man like my father and abandon her title that I would one day inherit. However, my existence is substantial proof that it took place. My father can also be very persuasive, which comes in handy in his line of work.

Abe likes to call himself a businessman, and I suppose that by some stretch of the imagination, this is true. He just happens to be involved in more than one business venture that isn't entirely above-board. As such, he can easily provide for his beautiful wife and daughter, and is far more connected than any person should be. His experience in working with dangerous situations makes him an excellent mediator when it comes to the fights between my mother and me.

"Sit down, Rose," my mother says. I do as instructed-however, as I do, I can't help but shoot a curious glance at the stranger that stands behind me.

He's a dhampir.

That, paired with his blank expression and rigid posture, marks him clearly as a guardian. He's a little younger than the ones I normally see though, and impressively tall. Incredibly good looking too. With his chin-length brown hair tied back, and these dark brown eyes that sparkle with intelligence. He's wearing a long brown leather jacket like something out of the Matrix, which would look dorky on the other 99.9% of the population, but makes him look ridiculously badass.

I wonder what he's doing here. Several suggestions run through my brain, and none of them are good. I begin to feel the first sneaky tendrils of dread.

I turn back to my parents, pre-empting whatever fight they're about to start by stating the obvious. "You've hired me a babysitter."

My mother frowns. "You see?" she says, turning to my father, "I told you she would be like this."

He ignores her. "No, Rose. We asked that you be assigned a guardian."

"A guardian who will be following me around all the time and making sure I don't do anything stupid? Sounds like a babysitter to me."

"If he made sure you never did anything stupid, the man would never sleep," remarks my mother.

My father gives me a stern look as I open my mouth to reply. "Guardian Belikov will be protecting you from any danger you may encounter."

"Including danger that is self-inflicted," my mother adds.

My face darkens, and I feel my dubiously-held temper start to rise. "So that's what this is about; when I dried myself off this morning?"

"I suppose by that you mean the offensive spell you used that you have clearly been practicing?"

"I don't understand why you're so upset about this! I didn't hurt anyone!"

"This is about a lot of things," my father interjects, before we can really get into it. "We've been fairly liberal with you up until this point, Rose, but the time has come for you to take on some of the responsibility that your title dictates."

"This guardian has been trained to kill Strigoi, not to keep a teenage girl out of trouble. Why are you wasting his abilities on me?"

"You should have had a guardian a long time ago," says my mother, with a look of disdain. "Even though you're so keen to sully your reputation, the fact of the matter is that you are the only Dragomir left. It's time for you to grow up, and stop behaving like a petulant child."

I see red.

"I didn't ask for this!" I shout. "I never wanted to be a princess! And besides, I don't see you two doing anything to further the Dragomir line!"

"Rosemarie, that is enough!" my father thunders, and I can tell by his face that I've gone too far. His anger is terrifying to behold. "Nothing you can say will change our minds, so I suggest that you do not make things any worse for yourself."

I have no choice but to give in.

And so it is that I find myself leaving the office, with my new guardian following silently. And I mean _silently_. Even with my sensitive Moroi hearing, I can hardly hear him take a step. After a few minutes, I find myself looking down, just to make sure that he has feet instead of wheels or flying shoes.

"I didn't get the chance to ask for your name," I say, when the silence has started making me uncomfortable.

"Dimitri Belikov, Princess," he replies, his words tinged with a slight accent. Russian?

I cringe. "Nobody calls me princess."

"I can't imagine why." Did he almost smile? Maybe it's just a trick of the light.

"Let me rephrase: please don't call me princess."

He seems to think about that for a moment. "As you wish, Rosemarie."

"Gah, that's even worse!" I shudder. "Please, just call me Rose."

Okay, he definitely almost smiled that time. "All right."

We continue walking, until I begin to take a left turn that branches off the main path. His hand closes around my arm and brings me to a halt.

"Where do you think you're going?"

His grip doesn't hurt, but I can tell that he's not using anywhere near his full strength. At the same time, I know that I couldn't break his hold if I tried.

"To the cafeteria? I have to visit the feeders."

"There are still ten minutes of your lesson left."

I snort. "What, did you memorise my timetable?"

"Yes," he says, like the answer should have been obvious. "You need to go back to class."

I shake my head. "I'd only disrupt the lesson."

"Something that I'm sure you're used to."

"Aren't you supposed to be protecting me?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Aren't you supposed to be accepting your responsibilities?"

"If I haven't behaved responsibly in seventeen years, don't you think it might take more than a whole five minutes for me to start?" I scoff.

When he doesn't reply or remove his hand, I sigh and roll my eyes. "What if I promise to return to the classroom during lunch and find out what I missed?"

He narrows his eyes. "Fine."

I have a feeling that he'll hold me to it, but there's time to dwell on that later. Now is the time for blood.

For some reason, though the dull burn in my throat has been tolerable up until this point, at the thought of imminent feeding, it kicks into the next gear. I lengthen my strides and quicken my pace, eager for relief. My new shadow matches me with ease, with his dhampir stamina and longer legs. In fact, it's probably the equivalent of a casual stroll to him, though I'm going the fastest I can without actually running.

By the time we've reached the cafeteria, I'm out of breath, while he's barely broken a sweat. And I mean sure, I may be a borderline alcoholic teenage girl, but it really serves to point out the distinction between our races. It's a bit of a sore spot for me with my parents' disagreement over my display of magic so fresh in my mind. I don't want my inferiority to be so obvious.

But I'm distracted by the lady with a clipboard at the entrance to the room where the feeders are held.

"You should be in class," she says with a frown.

"I got pulled out early, and didn't want to disrupt the lesson," I explain. "Are there any feeders free?"

She sighs, but decides not to push it. "Name?"

"Rose Dragomir."

She looks down at her clipboard. "Hmm," she says, paging back through the register, then looks up with an expression of astonishment. "You haven't been for blood in five days!"

I feel my guardian stiffen in surprise, but I only shrug. "I guess that explains the thirst then."

I dump my bag on the floor and head over to the cubicle that I'm ushered to. I honestly think she might be afraid that I'm going to fall over or something.

"Hey April," I grin as I sit down. "How are things?"

"Rose!" exclaims the plain looking, middle-aged woman before me, that typical glassy-eyed look of a feeder momentarily brightened by her excitement. "It's been a while!"

"Yeah, you know me. I've been busy wreaking havoc."

She laughs.

"Oh, hey, I have something for you!" I exclaim. "One second, it's in my bag."

I stand up to go and get it, but Guardian Belikov is already behind me with my bag in his outstretched hand.

"Er, thanks," I say, and he nods.

I rifle through some books and other random junk that has accumulated inside my bag, and finally find what I'm looking for. I set the CD on the table.

"You're going to love this one," I say, sliding it towards her. "They're one of my favourite bands of all time. Some people find them a bit raw, but I prefer to think of it as authentic."

" _Neutral Milk Hotel_?" she reads, squinting a little at the cover. "Thank you, I'm sure I'll love them. But now maybe you should have some blood, before you pass out?"

I roll my eyes, but don't resist when she sweeps her greying hair to the side, and exposes her neck.

Her moan of bliss doesn't escape me, but as I sink my fangs through the layer of scar tissue on her neck, I feel the frenzy start to build inside me. It's been too long; I hadn't meant to cut it this close, but oh, that sweet taste and warmth on my tongue! I lose myself for a second in the throbbing of her heart, and the slow ebbing of her life into my own. Then I remember, and pull back.

April looks at me with stars in her eyes, but even through her high, she manages a disapproving look. "Rose, it's almost been a week. You need more than that."

"No," I shake my head. "I'm fine. Thank you. I guess I'll see you again in a couple of days. Let me know what you think of the CD."

And with a parting smile, I pick up my bag and walk back into the cafeteria, which is now filled with students. I guess it's lunch time.

Lissa waves at me from our usual table, but I'm not sure that I've forgiven her for this morning. On the other side of the room, Mason stares at me with his mouth hanging open. For a second, I think that it's a bit of an exaggerated response, but then I realise that he's actually staring at the person next to me. This draws my attention to the fact that my newly-acquired guardian is still hovering like a really big bird.

"Don't you get a lunch break or something?"

He shoots me a look. "I'm waiting for you to keep your promise."

I had been planning to go at the end of lunch, but this gives me a good excuse to avoid Lissa for a little longer. And as much as his perpetual presence irritates me, the poor guy deserves a break.

I roll my eyes. "Fine."

I walk back across the campus, guardian in tow.

* * *

Author's Note

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! Please leave a review to tell me what you thought! Also, if you found any mistakes, please let me know so that I can correct them. I always love hearing from you, even if I'm not so great at responding. And please feel free to favourite and follow, if you want to keep in the loop.**

 **Tah dah! Everyone's favourite guardian is now in the picture, and I can't wait to explore how this dynamic will alter the finer points of Romitri. Honestly, I am having so much fun with this, and it can get quite challenging figuring out how Rose fits into the Moroi world. There's a very fine balance, and I hope I'm getting it right so far.**

 **All credit for the VA universe and the characters therein goes to Richelle Mead.**


	3. Chapter 3: Don't Call Me Comrade

We walk together in silence for a while, and I'm honestly beginning to think that he just genuinely can't walk any other way. It defies the laws of nature, given that his feet are about half as long as I am.

A couple of minutes in, I notice that he keeps giving me these strange looks from his lofty height. Deciding that it will make this excursion longer if I attempt a conversation, I resolve to just keep walking. So I'm flabbergasted when he's the one who finally speaks.

"Should I be concerned?"

Yep, definitely Russian. I recognise it from all those corny movie criminals.

"About what?"

He frowns. "About the blood thing. Why did you wait so long?"

That throws me off. I'm not used to people paying such close attention to me, and while I know that it's his job, it makes me a little uncomfortable.

"I like to make an entrance." As usual, I mask my vulnerability with sass.

He shakes his head. "I need an honest answer."

But I'm not sure that I can give him one.

You see, I am the rebel; the write-off. I'm the girl that people pay attention to while she's making a spectacle of herself and then turn away the minute it's over. I don't do 'real.' And this falls under that category quite decidedly. These are things that people don't see: things that I definitely do not enjoy talking about.

But apparently I've been quiet for too long.

"Were you just too lazy to go, or are you actually self-destructive?"

Oh boy, I do not want to get into that last part. But I shrug. "I'm not suicidal, if that's what you're thinking. And if I were, there are much easier ways to kill myself than starvation."

"That statement doesn't exactly set my mind at ease."

I sigh, deliberately avoiding his eyes. "Normally I don't leave it that long. With everything else, I don't know, I just got caught up."

A pause, then: "Rose, you can tell me the truth, you know."

It's not fair. This guy has known me for all of five minutes, and he already seems to have a better understanding of my character than the people who birthed and raised me. And from what I've gathered of his personality so far, I know that he's not going to let this go. I don't know why, but I desperately want to believe that I can tell him, even though he's practically a stranger. For the first time in a while, I decide to take a leap of faith.

"It's not about me," I say at last. "It's about them."

"The feeders?"

Boy, he catches on quickly.

I nod. "They always overuse them, and they think it doesn't matter because they don't even see them as people. I guess I just like to wait a while between. It helps ease the load a little."

I address my words to the ground, but look up as I finish, craning my neck so that I can see his face. What I find there confuses me. If he wasn't a guardian, I would swear he almost looks surprised.

"What?"

As soon as I speak, he regains his composure. "Nothing. I get that you want to help them, but it shouldn't be at the cost of your own strength."

I close myself off at the chastisement. That's what I get for telling the truth.

"Whatever."

In a shocking turn of events, we sink back into that ever-present silence. At one point he looks like he wants to say something, but decides against it. It's a relief when we finally reach the classroom. Luckily, Mr Peter is sitting at his desk as I walk in.

"Miss Dragomir," he says, glancing up from the pile of papers that he's marking. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Um, actually Sir, I er… I came to, uh…" I clear my throat and try again, through gritted teeth. "I came to… find out what I missed."

His silver eyebrows shoot upwards, registering his astonishment. I simply stand there and wait for him to get over it.

When he finally does respond, it isn't quite what I expected.

"Why?"

"What?"

"Why do you want to know what you missed?"

"I…er…" Despite my best efforts, I glance behind me where the guardian is standing, looking all Russian and intimidating. My eyes only flick in his direction for a second, but Mr Peter has sharp eyes for an old man.

"I see. Well, in that case, I will tell you what to catch up on, but only on one condition."

For some strange reason, my life seems to have gotten more complicated since yesterday. I forcibly remind myself that I actually like this teacher, but roll my eyes nevertheless.

"Fine. What's the condition?"

An amused smile plays across his lips. "That you actually do all of the work."

Damn.

While I may be reckless and disobedient, contrary to what Lissa said this morning, I am not stupid. I know that in order to get away with most of my behaviour, my grades have to be satisfactory. In fact, half the reason that my parents haven't implicated more serious measures before now is that I've never actually failed a subject. It's come close once or twice, and my grades are never anywhere near excellent, but I've always made a point of doing just enough work to get by.

Mr Peter's condition now throws a spanner in the works—or lack thereof.

As if he can tell what I'm thinking, his smile becomes kinder. "Miss Dragomir, you and I both know that you are capable of much better marks than you are currently achieving. I also happen to know that you enjoy my subject."

I sigh. "Okay. I'll do the work."

"Excellent. In that case, I'd like you to read through the chapter we were working on and answer the questions at the end. You'll submit your answers to me at the start of our lesson on Wednesday."

I thank him, nod, and start to leave the classroom. Just as I reach my guardian by the door, a thought occurs to me and I turn back.

"Sir?" I say, taking a breath. "I would appreciate it if you could keep this between us."

He chuckles, blue eyes twinkling. "Oh, I won't tell a soul."

"Where did you go?" Lissa asks as I sit down opposite her.

"Never mind that now. I have so much to tell you."

Five minutes later, she's all caught up on the events of the morning Being Lissa, she takes a few more moments to think it all through, frowning as she does so.

"Honestly, I'm kind of surprised that it took them so long," she muses. "You really should have had a guardian before now. I mean, you're kind of a big deal."

I roll my eyes. "Right. Well, I got by just fine without him."

"Oh, yes," she laughs. "Perfectly fine."

"I did! I haven't died yet."

"By sheer luck. It's come ridiculously close a couple of times. Remember the ostrich?"

"To be fair, it was a sick ostrich. Allegedly. And that took two people; don't pretend you're entirely blameless."

"You're just a bad influence," she grins. "Although you are pretty innovative too, so you get points for that."

I roll my eyes again, but she suddenly seems to realise something.

"Wait," she says. "This means you're actually going to have to behave."

"Huh?"

"This isn't just about tricking your parents anymore. A guardian is going to be impossible to fool."

"I'll find ways around it." Despite my carefree tone, my heart sinks a little lower in my chest.

Her grin widens. "No, I don't think you will."

I groan. "You look way too happy about this."

"Is it really that bad?"

"Yes! It's only been one day, and he's just everywhere! Stuck here with me, when he could actually be putting his training to use."

She sighs. "You're looking at this all wrong."

"And the guy is so freaking quiet, it's unnerving!"

"They're all quiet."

"No, he's worse. He doesn't make a single sound. He just glides along, like a freaking Disney princess."

She lets out a loud peal of laughter, which cuts off abruptly as her eyes fall on something behind me.

"Uh, Rose…"

I know that it's him without having to turn around. "I guess it's time for class," I grumble, grabbing my bag.

My maths teacher can't believe her eyes when I arrive on time thanks to my escort, but at least my classmates can't point and whisper for very long before the test papers are set before us. I spend the next hour doling out death stares and half-heartedly attempting to 'solve for x.'

Once our test papers are in, everybody relaxes and starts talking. There are only a couple of minutes left until class ends, so our teacher just lets it happen. Mason sidles up to my desk.

"You arrived on time today," he grins. "Only you can become the talk of the academy by actually obeying the rules."

"I'm the talk of the academy either way," I shrug. "I guess I just attract attention."

"Among other things. So your parents are finally making you be good?"

I smile. "Nobody can make me do anything. And there are always other was to misbehave."

"I don't know so much."

I jokingly put a hand over my heart. "Do you doubt me?"

"Not at all," he grins. "But if anyone could do it, it's Guardian Belikov."

"Really? He doesn't seem all that impressive, apart from his stealth skills and somehow managing to make that coat-thing look cool. I suspect witchcraft is involved."

He grins. "Trust you to land up with one of the most talented guardians alive and not even know it."

"Exaggerate much?" I scoff. "If he's really as good as you say, why would he be assigned to me?"

"Trust me, the guy is practically a god." His tone is bordering on reverent as he glances to the back of the room where the guardians stand, mine among them.

"Do you want me to leave you two alone?"

That earns me an eye-roll. "Seriously, Rose. Didn't you notice how young he is?"

"Well, yeah," I admit. "But I thought it just meant he was fresh from training or something."

Mason shakes his head. "They wouldn't let somebody inexperienced protect the Dragomir Princess."

Great. So now not only is this guardian wasting his skills protecting me, but apparently said skills are prodigious. Why do I get the sneaky suspicion that my father had a hand in this?

But something else about Mason's reply makes me narrow my eyes.

"Don't call me that," I warn.

"What else am I supposed to call you? You are a princess, even if you don't act like it."

"It's not something I need reminding of."

The bell interrupts whatever he's about to say, luckily for him. All of a sudden, he just doesn't seem as cute as before.

I stand up and sling my bag over my shoulder, relishing the ability to move after an hour of mental contortion. Mason waves his farewell and heads back to his desk to gather his own things.

The school day is finally over, and I am free once more.

 _Well, almost free,_ I amend as I'm joined by the coat-wearing wonder-child himself.

The thought draws my attention to a mounting problem, and I frown.

"You know," I say as he ghosts along beside me through the campus. "I've never had a guardian before. What am I supposed to call you?"

He seems to consider this for a moment. "I wouldn't recommend the continued use of 'Disney princess', if I were you."

Whoops.

"Hang on, did you just make a joke?"

He ignores me. "You can just call me Dimitri."

"Okay," I reply, but then his accent gives me an idea. Idly, I wonder if he's ever had to deliver a bomb threat, and then push the thought aside. "How about Comrade?"

"No."

"I think it has a nice ring to it."

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"One-hundred percent."

"Just to be clear, was that for or against it?"

He raises his eyebrow, but maintains his silence.

"Couldn't I technically order you to let me call you Comrade?"

"You could, Princess Dragomir."

I repress a shudder. "Dimitri it is, then."

He doesn't play fair.

A tiny smile breaks through his composure. "Wise decision."

By this point, we're almost back to the house, passing the wall that marks the edge of the property. As we walk by, a faint glimmer catches my eye from the grass near the base.

"What are you doing?" he asks, sounding faintly exasperated as I veer off the path.

"Just a little detour," I call back over my shoulder, drawn to the sparkling objects like a magpie.

"You're supposed to go straight home."

But though he catches up to me with ease, he doesn't actually stop me.

"Bingo!"

I stoop down and grab the shiny pair of heels that I so carelessly discarded last night. Even in the weak light of the moon, they glitter dimly.

"Okay, we can go now."

"Why exactly did you leave them there in the first place?" he asks once we're back on track.

"Are you kidding? These things were like four hundred bucks! Plus there's no way that I could scale that wall in 5 inch heels."

"That's the wall you climbed?"

"Yeah. Why?"

He looks sceptical.

"Is that a challenge?"

"No," he replies, but before the word leaves his lips, I'm halfway to the top.

I can't help but grin. While it doesn't take him long to respond, I actually caught him by surprise, which is proof that even one of the alleged best guardians can't be prepared for everything. Maybe there is some hope for me after all.

A second later, he's after me like lightning, vaulting over the wall like it's 3 feet instead of 7. He finds hand and footholds seemingly by instinct, his coat flapping out behind him like a slow-motion movie moment.

And in that moment, I can see what Mason was saying. He is simply incredible. His movements are graceful and fluid, despite his ridiculous height. He's like a well-oiled machine made by a master mechanic. I have an inkling now just how deadly he would be in a fight. In that moment, he is glorious.

And because I'm watching him, I forget to pay attention to myself. He's already landed when I reach the top and the aged edge crumbles beneath my precariously-placed heel. I pay the price for my distraction by being fully focussed on the ground blurring towards me.

 _Oh shit._

Strong, leather-clad arms break my fall, and the scream that I wasn't even aware of forming suddenly cuts off. All the air is knocked out of me at the impact.

We stay frozen for several seconds.

"Are you okay?" he asks. There's no emotion, only the no-nonsense, commanding tone of a guardian.

"I'm fine," I breathe, slowly becoming aware of the warmth of him as I come back to myself. "Could you, er, put me down now please?"

Gently, he sets me on my feet, making sure that I can stand by myself before he lets me go. His eyes flick over me for any sign of damage. Only once he's ascertained that I am indeed unscathed does he speak again.

"That was stupid and reckless," he chides. All traces of joking have vanished from his voice, which is now hard and stern.

And he's right, of course, but reckless is practically my middle name. I've done countless things far worse than hop a wall, and received far worse punishment than a reprimand from a virtual stranger. This man was foisted upon me less than 24 hours ago, so why in the hell do my eyes slide away from his face and attach their gaze to the ground? And why do I feel the prickle of colour flooding my cheeks?

Part of it is that I hate being some kind of damsel in distress.

It's bad enough that my race chooses to be weak in spite of our potential, and that I'm bound by the choices of some assholes that lived several hundred years ago. It's even worse that because of my title, I wound up with a super talented guardian whose deadly skills are currently being used to save me from a stone wall.

But there is another small part—one I really don't want to think about too hard—that simply doesn't want to look bad in front of _him_.

Dimitri returns to his default state of silence as he marches me back to the house. I don't try to speak for once; I just follow meekly and try to answer the question that's floating around my head:

 _What is happening to me?_

* * *

Author's Note

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Please leave a review to let me know what you liked and what you didn't. It's always fantastic to hear your feedback, particularly with this fic. If you'd like to keep in the loop, feel free to favourite and follow, too. I try to update every month, but I'm not entirely sure how long I'll be able to keep that up.**

 **I'm really enjoying writing this one. It's outside my usual content, because I normally try to stick as close to canon as possible, but I guess that's what makes it entertaining. At least, I hope it is entertaining. Also, apologies for any mistakes, as this is unBeta'd.**

 **All credit for the VA universe, and the characters therein goes to Richelle Mead.**


	4. Chapter 4: Back to Bad Habits

As I awake, a grin spreads across my face. I register the soft sound of the raindrops falling on my window, soothing and familiar, and somehow I know that it's going to be a good day. The soft pattering is music to my ears, and I even catch myself humming as I dress.

Dimitri and I have fallen into a rhythm of sorts over the past week. He tolerates my snark surprisingly well, and in return I try not to act out too much, which is actually easier than I first thought. Though I still haven't gotten used to being followed around 24/7, there is a part of me that isn't exactly adverse to the company. Mostly because it's _him._ Unfortunately, I have been unable to shake my crush on him thus far.

"You look happy," Dimitri observes as we walk away from the house. His tone is filled with suspicion, and my smile widens in response.

"You make that sound like a bad thing."

He shifts his grip on the handle of the umbrella that he holds over us. Given the height difference, it's an awkward arrangement to say the least. He stoops slightly, and I also notice that he makes sure that I'm completely covered, while his left shoulder slowly gets drenched. It makes me frown a little, this small reminder that my race is supposedly superior despite our frailty.

He looks down at me with a smile in his eyes.

"I'm more concerned that the cause of your happiness will mean trouble for me."

I try to get out of my weird mood. "Never fear," I laugh. "I'm just enjoying the rain."

"Aren't you a fire user?"

I roll my eyes. "Are you actually asking? I know you've memorised my file."

"I only meant to point out that it's strange for you to enjoy a cascade of the opposite element."

"Woah there, isn't English your second language? Maybe you should stop reading dictionaries in your free time."

"Maybe I'd have more free time if you would stay out of trouble."

The smile is still there, in the brown depths of his eyes, but one of the many things I've noticed about Dimitri is that he never lets them escape.

We talk sometimes, and I make jokes that he sometimes finds amusing, but he never expresses it outright. Which, come to think of it, is probably a good thing. My heart would probably beat its way out of my chest, like a damned cartoon.

 _One day,_ I promise myself. _One day I'll get him to laugh._

This is followed immediately by a more forceful, scolding thought: _He's your guardian. You need to STOP._

Wrapped in my thoughts, I absentmindedly step closer to the very subject of them, and my arm briefly touches his.

Even though it was only a brush of his elbow, and through his ridiculous jacket, the contact makes me feel giddy. My self-admonishment only grows louder.

 _He's just doing his job. You're being ridiculous!_

I try to keep all traces of my thoughts from my face, but I need a distraction, not to mention a little bit of distance. Literally. I step out from the umbrella and spin away from him.

My feet leave the path, and the wet grass clings to my shoes as I go. The rain is a cold prickling on my face and arms, filtering through my hair and clothes as they begin to stick to my skin. I flash a mischievous grin in response to his raised eyebrow, though he makes no move to come after me.

"You're getting wet," he calls drily, standing in the gloom underneath the umbrella.

"That does tend to happen, yeah."

But instead of scolding, he just stands there and watches me patiently.

I turn my face to the sky and revel in the taste of the rain on my lips. The air smells fresh and sharp; a blend of the over-green plants and the wet ground. Thunder rolls in the distance, the droplets roll over my skin. It makes me feel alive. This, at least, I can handle. Though Moroi have many other weaknesses, I do not melt when I get wet. Somehow, that knowledge makes me feel stronger.

I turn slowly in a circle, raising my arms to welcome the droplets. When I face him again, he has a peculiar expression that I can't quite place. But it disappears when he sees me watching. With one finger, beckons me back to his side.

"We'll need to go back to the house so you can change, and you don't want to be late for class."

Even though his worry is unfounded, I join him once again under the shelter of the umbrella.

"I don't need to change," I say with a laugh.

He raises an eyebrow, and briefly looks down at my clothes. He averts his gaze almost immediately, and clears his throat.

"Yes, you do."

My clothes cling to me like a second skin, and it takes me a moment to realise just how much they must reveal. Suddenly, I feel very warm, flushed with embarrassment.

"Stand back," I warn, giving him a second to obey before I use that warmth to call on my fire.

Despite the water in the air, it's easy to control the flames that flare up and flicker across my skin. I push until they're tinged with blue, enveloping me with a feeling of safety that leaves me warm and dry. It only takes a few seconds.

We carry on walking.

"Your parents don't want you to do that," he says, after a brief silence. I can't help but notice his wording.

"You don't seem to disapprove."

He sets his mouth in a line. "A spell like that takes practice. That's not something I want to discourage."

What does that mean?

We descend back into a silence as I try to solve the puzzle that is Dimitri, and that lasts until we reach the cafeteria. It helps me to retain my reticence.

Before we part, he reminds me that I haven't had blood in two days.

"I'll visit the feeders at lunch time," I promise, and then I join Lissa at a table.

"Hey."

She looks up from her pot of yoghurt, and I can immediately see that something is wrong. Without a second thought, I reach my hand across the table to grab hers.

"What is it?" I ask.

She looks away, trying to tell me that it's nothing, but I refuse to buy it, and eventually she tells me that she was placed in elemental basics again. I can see the worry and humiliation plain on her face.

"Don't sweat it, Liss," I soothe. "You're an enigma. It makes you cool."

She snorts, and smiles a tiny bit, but then it's gone. "Cool. Right, that's why I'm stuck in a class of sophomores."

"No, that's because you're smart. This way you have to do way less work than everyone else."

I can see she's upset, but my feeble attempts to make her laugh don't seem to be helping, so I change tack. "What did Ms. Cormick say?"

"She says that I exercise a high control in all four elements, and she's sure that one will shoot up any day now." Lissa rolls her eyes, letting me know exactly what she thinks of that theory. "More like she knows I'm a freak, and she doesn't want to tell me." She buries her face in her hands, and I feel a spark of rage at the society that came up with this whole stupid system.

I try to make my voice gentle, but I can't help but let a little of my irritation colour my tone. "Firstly, the only way you're a little freakish is in your ability to tolerate me."

She can't help but smile at that, and I continue, encouraged. "Secondly, there's nothing wrong with not specialising. Not that I think you aren't going to, I'm just pointing this out." My tone turns bitter. "And besides, even if you do specialise, it's not like we're allowed to use our magic anyway."

For some strange reason, this makes her laugh.

"What?"

"Oh, Rose," she chuckles, "sometimes I think that you'd make a fantastic princess."

My face darkens. "You know, you're the only one who can say that to me without getting punched."

"Trust me, I know. And I'm making full use of that knowledge. If you could hear yourself, you might even agree with me. I really think that this guardian thing is good for you."

"Don't push it," I growl, and she squeezes my hand gratefully.

"Okay, okay. I'm going to class now. And Rose?" She rises from her seat, but looks down at me. "Thanks."

My frown melts into a smile. "Of course, Liss. Any time."

I'm uncharacteristically pensive as Dimitri and I walk to my classes, thinking about what Lissa said in spite of myself. I've never really entertained the thought that I could ever be a proper princess, that maybe I could change things somehow. It's a disturbing prospect. With great power comes great responsibility and all that jazz. Plus, the whole viewpoint of our society has persisted for millennia. That's an incredibly daunting prospect for one teenage royal, most likely insurmountable.

What's marginally more disturbing though, is the thought that two weeks ago, I wouldn't even have dwelt on it.

The nice thing about Dimitri is that silence is his natural state. He's characteristically reticent, and he's okay to leave me to my thoughts. Though he's clearly curious, he allows me to think and doesn't ask questions. I find that I pay less attention in my classes, lost in my own head, until something brings me back to reality, with an abrupt bump.

"Rose Dragomir."

"Huh?" I look up, and find that the entire class is already staring at me. "Um, sorry, Sir, could you repeat the question?"

Where my classmates would normally snicker, there's only an uncomfortable and foreboding silence.

"I really would expect more," Mr Peter grins, wrinkles crinkling at the corners of his sparkling blue eyes, "from the student who got the highest mark on the last assignment."

For a second, I wonder if he's finally gone senile.

Me? The top mark? He must think I'm ridiculously gullible to believe that. I only did the damn assignment because Dimitri made me, and because I've had nothing better to do of an evening than homework, seeing as I'm biding my time before I attempt to sneak out.

But lo and behold, when he places the paper on my desk, the small '96' is written in red ink at the top corner of the page. I even blink a few times to make sure it doesn't disappear.

The class remains stunned into silence for the rest of the lesson, and I just sit there thinking.

Mason hurries up to walk with me as I walk down the corridor. Dimitri lets us outstrip him, providing the illusion of privacy while he walks a couple of feet behind us.

"Well that was…unexpected," I begin.

"What was?" Mason asks.

I stare at him, incredulous. "You're joking, right? I got the top mark!"

"Oh, that," he shrugs. "Well, everyone knows you're smart. Is this really a surprise to you?"

"Well, yeah."

"It shouldn't be."

"Uh… thanks?"

He laughs. "Rose, I know you hate to be reminded of it, but you are royalty."

I narrow my eyes. "Tread lightly, Ashford. I may not be able to take you in a fight, but you're not allowed to hit me back.

"Okay, okay," he raises his hands in mock surrender. "I'm just saying. You're the last Dragomir, Rose, you're a big deal."

And with that, I reach my tolerance capacity. Forcing as much dismissal into my tone as humanly possible, I say, "I have to visit the feeders."

He looks hurt, but I'm in no mood to care. His belief in my abilities unsettles me. I don't like it when people pay attention to me for serious reasons. I already have to deal with an over-observant guardian. What if now I've made everyone think that I'm trying? What if they expect me to do it again, for a different subject? The thought leaves me cold. One thing is certain; now everyone will be watching when I fail.

Dimitri follows me into the feeding hall, where I'm quickly seated in a cubicle. I don't take my anger out on Sam, my feeder today. In fact, I take less blood than usual, earning a disapproving look from Dimitri that I pretend to ignore. Before he can actually comment, I spot Lissa at our normal table across the cafeteria, and head that way without a word to him.

"Don't look now, but Jesse Zeklos is staring at you," she says, by way of greeting.

"Let him stare," I shrug, but I can't help smiling a little as I sit down opposite her.

Jesse Zeklos is crazy hot and throws the best parties on campus, but he is also an entitled royal and a future frat-boy. While piquing his interest gives me a self-esteem boost, it's not something I'm in the mood to encourage, at present.

"How were your classes?" I ask, as a distraction.

Lissa is a straight-A student, so we hardly have any lessons together.

"Good, nothing to report. I did hear something really interesting though."

"Oh? Do tell."

Some juicy gossip is exactly the thing that I need right now. Maybe I'll hit the jackpot, and somebody's pregnant.

She grins. "Well, apparently Rose Dragomir got the top mark on a history assignment."

I roll my eyes. "Oh. That."

"Yes, that! Rose, this is a big deal. Do you see what happens when you put in the work?"

Her sentence makes my stomach turn.

I close my eyes briefly. "Please, drop it."

"But doesn't it feel good, to know you can do it?"

"Liss, please."

I don't know what she sees in my expression, but it has the desired effect, and we return to normal conversation.

It's exactly as I feared; Lissa has just proved it. I get one good grade and everyone starts expecting things of me. There is no happy thought in my mind, I do not feel like this is a victory. This is what people have been waiting for all this time, so there is no praise for my achievement, but rather another sprinkle of responsibility on the top of a pile that is already too large for me to handle.

How could I be so stupid? How could I have forgotten so easily? I develop a silly crush on somebody that only pays attention to me because it's his job, and I forget who I am.

 _Well,_ I think, throwing a flirtatious smile over my shoulder at Jesse Zeklos. _It's high time I reminded everybody._

Jesse's brown hair flops into his face as he sees my expression, and he gestures outside with a twitch of his head.

"What are you doing?" Lissa asks, as I rise from my chair to follow his retreating figure.

"Managing expectations," I coolly reply, and leave the cafeteria.

* * *

Author's Note

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Please feel free to leave me a review and let me know what you thought; what worked, what didn't. If there's anything you'd like to say, I'd love to hear it. Also, I apologise for any mistakes, as this fic is currently unBeta'd. I post pretty randomly, so if you'd like to keep in the loop, please favourite and follow.  
**

 **Uh oh. I'm running out of stored up chapters. I really need to start writing again, but I actually have a job now. It's shocking, I know. I'm a contributing adult member of society. Blegh. I promise to write and update whenever I can. Your support is so amazing, so thank you for bearing with me!**

 **The VA universe, and the characters therein, is the intellectual property of Richelle Mead.**


	5. Chapter 5: Sneaky Plans

Jesse leans casually against the wall, trying to look cool, and succeeding pretty damn well. I resist the urge to just stand there and admire him; even in the crappy fluorescent light spilling from the cafeteria, he looks delectable.

"So I heard you got top in a history assignment," he says, as I come to stand beside him.

I follow his lead, leaning next to him so that our shoulders touch. Man, he's even hotter up close, with those mischievous green eyes.

"You want to talk about schoolwork?" I ask, arching an eyebrow—a habit I've picked up from a certain someone. I immediately banish the thought from my mind, and focus on the guy in front of me.

"Not particularly," he grins. "What do you want to talk about?"

Just the answer I'd been hoping for. I reach out a hand to run my fingers down his bicep, tracing the elegant curve of his muscle. "There are other things I'd much rather do than talk, but this is a little public."

There's a flirtatious smirk on his lips, and his eyes sweep my face almost greedily. "Sounds good to me, but I heard you're on house arrest."

"Oh, I can break out, if I have enough incentive." I dangle the bait, and pull on my man-eating smile to sweeten the deal.

I'm not worried that we'll be overheard in the midst of the end of lunch racket. Students begin walking towards their classes, flowing through the doors in a great tide of noise that easily obscures our conversation from any curious ears that might be trying to listen in.

Jesse moves his head a little nearer to mine, so that we're almost breathing the same air. His voice is barely above a whisper, tickling my skin as he speaks. "Lucky for you, I'm excellent at providing that. I can arrange a small…study group in my dormitory."

My smile turns into an outright grin. "Then I guess it's a good thing that I'm so invested in my schoolwork. Text me the details?"

His expression is full of promises that I can't wait to make him keep. "Cool."

"I'll see you tonight then."

We pull apart just in time, because one moment later, a very tall Russian walks outside looking for me. I'm sure he's smart enough to realise the nature of our conversation, and he gives me an admonishing look while Jesse walks off to his next class. I tell myself that I don't care what he thinks, and even almost believe it.

And I am much calmer now that I know that by this time tomorrow, it will be known around campus that I'm up to my old tricks. The news that Rose Dragomir is back to working her way through all the guys in school will replace all talk of me acing a history assignment, and those few people who are a little disappointed will just have to get over it. I have to stop myself from skipping along the corridor like a lunatic.

Elemental fire is at the end of the day, which I would normally just bunk. Of course, Dimitri would never let me, and I'm trying to toe the line to pre-emptively allay his suspicion. So I sit at my desk in the back, bored to tears by the teacher droning on and on about "the helpful ways we can use fire." I zone out approximately two minutes after the first mention of fire-breaks.

As helpful as it is to know that I can use my powers to flambé a perfect medium-rare steak , I really don't put much stock in the rest of the "helpful" suggestions. How can we use our terribly destructive element to help people? Well, by putting other fires _out_ , of course!

The derisive snort I let out is tame compared to the things I'd like to say, but of course, I hold myself back with an uncharacteristic display of self-control. I just have to think of my plans for tonight and my conviction to hold my tongue solidifies once more.

"So," says the overly cheerful Ms. Daniels, "can anyone think of any other examples of how we can use our powers to help others?"

"How about killing Strigoi?"

For a moment, I almost believe that I've said my thoughts out loud. But the voice that delivered such an inflammatory statement is distinctly male, and, even more surprisingly, comes from the weird kid that never says a word; Christian Ozera.

"I'm sorry?"

"Striogoi. They're flammable."

I have to physically restrain myself from standing up and giving him a round of applause.

If this was a movie, I would be able to see a vein standing out on my teacher's forehead. "Yes, Mr. Ozera, I do understand that," she replies, her bright tone now sounding somewhat strained. "But we use our magic to help our society, not for offensive purposes."

Christian barks out a derisive laugh. "And killing Strigoi wouldn't be 'helpful to society'?"

Try as I might, I cannot supress my admiration for him speaking out, nor the frustration that is building inside of me once again. Christian is absolutely right; we can help. But we are not allowed to. And that is bullshit.

The teacher takes a deep, calming breath. "I can appreciate where you're coming from, Mr Ozera, with your background, I even understand, but-"

Too far. I can see by Christian's face that he's about to get himself into some serious trouble, not that the bitch of a teacher doesn't deserve it. There's a fiery glint in his eye that could result in his expulsion, so I stand up and cut him off.

"Excuse me, ma'am, but I don't believe that Christian mentioned anything about his background. He was only asking a question."

Ms. Daniels turns her drastically different expression towards me. This is not the first time I've challenged her, and, like most teachers when I start to speak, she's immediately on the offensive.

"A question that he very well knows the answer to, Miss Dragomir."

"Does he?" I raise my eyebrows. "Then why did he ask you?"

"To cause contention and derail my lesson, clearly!" Honestly, I find her anger infinitely more bearable than her cheeriness. "Something you would know all about!"

"That's not fair, I haven't even done anything yet."

"You are wildly disrespectful, Miss Dragomir, as always!"

"Well, yeah," I shrug, amping up the sass as Christian opens his mouth again, "but I disrespect everyone, so you're not special."

And so, despite my resolution to be on my best behaviour—which admittedly isn't very good-I am once again en route to the principal's office, and my guardian ghosts along next to me with that ridiculous disapproving silence.

Finally, the tension gets too much for me. It irritates me that I crave his admiration, and that I'm willing to bend my normal rules for his attention.

"Please don't." My words come out embarrassingly earnest, although I honestly don't know how I was trying to play this.

"Don't what?"

I look at the ground in front of me. "Don't do the whole disappointment thing."

He thinks about that for a moment, and surprisingly, when he speaks, there's a smile in his voice. "I think you're projecting."

"Projecting?"

"I think what you did was noble."

I stop walking, and turn to face him. "Wait, what?"

Dimitri humours me, halting his own progress down the corridor in turn. "Anyone could see that he was about to do something stupid. It's admirable that you took the bullet."

A feeling rises in my stomach, something remarkably akin to panic. I try my best to suppress it, but that seems to do about as much as if I'd poked it sharply with a stick.

Behind my back, I curl my fingers into the middle of my palms. Keeping a slight pressure against the smooth skin, I summon my concentration and my fire. Focussing on heat rather than actual flames, I send it into my fingertips until they pulse with warmth. I push a little harder, and the sharp pain on my palms gives me something else to focus on, and halves the effort it takes for me to wipe my face blank.

I shrug. "Let's go."

He gives me a look, but doesn't comment, and we proceed to my mother's office.

Dimitri's knock produces the response of, "Come in!"

We enter, greeted by my mother's 'why am I not surprised' face as she sits behind her desk. Of course, I think it's highly unfair, considering I've actually been well behaved this past week, and it's as though her bitchiness draws my own out. I swagger over to the chair before her, and plop down into it without being asked, deliberately rounding my spine into an uncultured and unaffected slouch.

I can sense Dimitri's disapproval behind me, and my mother sighs.

"I was wondering how long you could keep up the act," my mother begins. "I'm not surprised to find your dedication to the part so lacking."

Aah, so she had noticed. But of course, being my mother, there's no praise. I've taught her to lower her expectations of me over the years, that way she won't be disappointed. But somehow I still manage.

I suppose I should take it as a compliment, the fact that I have such a talent at letting people down. I deliberately press my fingers into the burns on my palms, eliciting a satisfying wave of pain that distracts me from the bitter direction of my thoughts.

 _After tonight, she'll really have something to be displeased about._ It almost makes me smile.

My mother rifles through the papers stacked neatly on her desk, and pulls an all-too-familiar one towards her.

"Detention, this Saturday," she informs me, without prelimination. "What did you do?"

"Disrespected a teacher."

"Of course you did."

Her pen scratches against the paper, and I idly look around her office while I wait for her to finish.

"Headmistress Mazur?"

My mother and I both look up at Dimitri with surprise. He was so still, she'd probably forgotten he was even in the room, and I allow myself one wistful moment to envy her. I feel his presence constantly, like a prickling on my skin.

"Yes, Guardian Belikov?"

"I think you should know that Rose was not the only one out of line," he says, levelly.

My mother's red eyebrows raise comically high on her forehead, but I'm too stunned to notice. Dimitri is defending me? Does the man have no fear? To align himself with me against my mother… he really is a badass. A wonderfully warm sensation trickles through me, far too pleasant to attempt to quell, even though I know I should.

 _He's just doing his job,_ I remind myself half-heartedly. Honestly, if I haven't gotten it through my thick skull by now, what's the point?

"Oh?" her tone is clearly coloured with disbelief, painted in broad, bold strokes.

Dimitri continues. "Rose was defending another student, and Ms. Daniels reacted unprofessionally."

Her blue eyes cloud as she takes this in, and her gaze slides thoughtfully over me. She clearly takes offense at a guardian criticising her staff, and yet she can't just ignore him. Still fixed on my face, her eyes narrow.

"Thank you, Guardian Belikov, I'll look into it."

He nods once, then resumes his stoic guardian expression.

For the first time, I experience a twinge of guilt. Is this really how I'm going to repay him? By sneaking out?

But if I don't do something, I'm going to implode.

I can't take this pressure, I can't live up to these expectations. And I definitely can't let myself get all giddy every time Dimitri so much as looks my way. What I need is for everything to just stop, while I figure all of this out. I need to be bad. I need to forget about my Guardian; to distract myself with something pretty.

My mother hands me the detention slip, and I'm so wrapped up in my thoughts that I take it without argument. More for something to do than out of interest, I look down at my punishment: something about unpacking in the church. But it hardly matters. After tonight, I'll probably have detention every Saturday for a month.

As if on cue, when we leave her office, my phone buzzes. It's a little tricky to take it out, because I'm trying to be simultaneously blasé, so as not to arouse Dimitri's suspicion, and sneaky, so that he can't actually see Jesse's text.

 _Woods outside dorm 11 PM ;)_

Surreptitiously, my fingers fly over my keypad as I type a reply.

 _See you tonight x_

Well, there's no going back now. I make a point to stick to my word.

The rest of the day goes by a little slower than usual, thanks to my plans tonight. But after what seems like an age, the final bell goes and I'm free to go home. I make slow progress through the crowded corridor, Dimitri walking alongside me while I pretend to ignore him. Up ahead, I see a familiar blonde ponytail bobbing through the people.

"Hey, Liss!"

She turns at the sound of my voice, and makes her way over to us.

"Rose, you got into trouble again?" she admonishes, as soon as she's in hearing range.

"Honestly, news travels faster in this school than in season 7 of Game of Thrones," I mutter, rolling my eyes.

She continues to frown though, in that disapproving way of hers.

"Okay, yeah. I got in trouble again. But Ms. Daniels totally overreacted."

"Sure she did."

"You know, they say sarcasm is the lowest form of wit."

Now it's Lissa's turn to roll her eyes. "Ha ha, Rose. You know, you really need to learn how to control your temper."

"Why mess with a good thing?"

"You just need some kind of outlet," she muses, ignoring my snark.

"Maybe I'll take up knitting."

"I'm serious!"

"What, you don't think I could knit?"

Finally, I get her to laugh. "No, you don't have the patience for it."

I have to admit, she has a point.

"Maybe you could start jogging?" she suggests, then bursts into a fresh wave of laughter at the sight of my face.

"Eew, exercise," I shudder, and she mimes wiping away a tear.

"Seriously though, I think that if you stick this out, you'll be much happier."

I have a very similar reaction to that of her previous suggestion. "You know your faith in me is severely misplaced, right?"

We're about to separate, as she goes back to the dorms, but she stops and gives me a look. "I disagree. Your faith in yourself is severely malnourished."

I don't know how to respond to that, so I just bid her goodbye, and proceed with Dimitri back to the house.

* * *

Author's Note

* * *

 **Thank you so much for reading! If you like what you see, or if you don't and have some criticism, please let me know by leaving a review. I always love reading what you have to say. This fic is currently unBeta'd, so I apologise for any mistakes you may have found.  
**

 **I need to get writing on this one again. I only have one more completed chapter in reserve, but I'm not sure how that's going to go, given the time of year. If you'd like to keep up to date with my strange posting, feel free top favourite and/or follow.**

 **The VA universe and the characters therein are the intellectual property of Richelle Mead.**


	6. Chapter 6: Anarchy

The faint strains of one of my favourite bands float down to me from the window, as my feet touch the ground. I turned the music on to mask the sound of my escape, should anyone even be listening. Feeling distinctly ninja-like, I cross the lawn and scale the wall, like I've done a hundred times before.

Simple. Easy. And yet, I'm half expecting to hear a reprimand come from the shadows, letting me know that Dimitri followed me to foil my plans. But none comes.

It's 10:45 as I cross the quiet grounds, and I have 15 minutes to make my way to Jesse's dorm. I know from experience to avoid the edges of campus, where the guardians patrol. So as long as I stick to the relatively shadier patches as much as possible, I don't really expect to run into any trouble. The shade also provides relief from the sun, which has begun its climb into the sky. Though it's early in the human day, the warmth of the rays makes my sensitive skin flush.

I debate whether or not to take my jacket off; weighing the extra breeze against the extra sun-exposure in my head. But before I can make my decision, I see the Moroi Dormitory up ahead, and veer around the side to get to the woods.

I hear them talking before I see them, a few voices raised in the thrill of rule-breaking. As I break through the final line of trees into the clearing, an exhilarated grin spreads across my own face in response to my successful escape. This is true freedom. For the first time in days, I'm actually doing something fun, outside the irritatingly watchful eye of my overly-attractive guardian.

And speaking of overly-attractive…

Jesse gives a wicked smile as he spots me. "Look who finally showed up!"

I shrug, and toss my hair. "I guess you guys can finally start the party then."

Behind him, a couple of other Royals sit around a makeshift table set up on a rock. I spot Camille Conta's impeccably straightened hair, and some of her other cronies, as well as Jesse's obnoxious friend, Ralph.

"Come on," Jesse says, extending a hand towards me. "We've already started. You have to play catch-up."

His fingers are pleasantly warm, but the shot of tequila that I'm handed is warmer still, as it slides down my throat. A cheer erupts from the others, and I join their table, noticing for the first time that there are cards laid out on the uneven surface.

"So, what are we doing?"

"Strip poker," Ralph leers, the challenge clear in his eyes. "You in?"

I take my time answering, shooting Jesse a flirty look. "I'll play if you do?"

He agrees, and the game begins. I'm no slouch at poker, but obviously staying clothed isn't the objective here. I make sure to place some reckless bets, and as a result, I lose my jacket and shoes pretty quickly, soon followed by my shirt. Jesse and Camille have also relinquished their tops and sneakers, and Ralph is playing so badly that he's already down to his boxers—a sight that makes me wish I could pour bleach over my brain. I settle for another shot of tequila instead.

I'm dealt a full house in the next round, and triumph over Jesse's double aces, costing him his jeans. I allow myself to ogle his lithe form; pale, slight and muscular. He sees my glance and raises me one of his own, his eyes raking over my torso, which is bare apart from a black lace bra.

Rapidly losing interest in the game, I bet my jeans and lose them courteously, taking the opportunity to put on a bit of a show as I remove them. Jesse eats it up, and as the next hand is being dealt, he leans forward to whisper in my ear.

"What do you say we take this somewhere else, just you and me?"

His breath tickles enticingly on my bare skin.

"Sure," I murmur to him, and then address the group. "Oh, shit! You guys, I dropped a contact lens in the woods! Jesse, do you want to help me look for it?"

There are a few jeers and wolf-whistles as Jesse rises and takes my hand. But pretty soon we leave the noise behind us, as we make our way deeper into the trees.

"So," he says, conversationally. "You wear contacts?"

I laugh. "Oh, yeah, totally. And now I can't see very well, so you're just going to have to get real close."

"That can be arranged."

His hands find my hips, and he pulls me to him. "Close enough?"

I wrap my arms around his shoulders, reveling in the smooth feeling of his skin on mine, and lean forward. Our lips almost touch.

"Not yet," I breathe.

And then his lips are on mine and his tongue is in my mouth. He kisses me enthusiastically, and a little sloppily, but at the moment I really don't care.

I lose myself in sensation. Jesse is flush against me, warming my blood, and the fallen leaves are cold and fresh beneath my feet. He steps forward, pressing me up against the rough bark of a nearby tree, and his hands skim all over my body.

And then suddenly he's gone.

Confused, I open my eyes to find Dimitri holding Jesse roughly by the shoulder, looking mutinous. And oh man, in full Russian god mode, Dimitri is even more attractive than usual.

"What's your name?" he barks, shaking Jesse to elicit a response.

A shiver ripples through Jesse's frame, and honestly, I can't say I blame him much. Next to Dimitri, he looks tiny and helpless, and by the pathetic tone of his voice, he seems to think so too.

"Jesse…Jesse Zeklos, Sir!"

"And do you have permission to be in this area of the grounds after curfew?"

"No, sir!"

"Then," Dimitri growls, "I suggest you get back to your dormitory and out of my sight. And if you breathe a word of this to anyone, I will come back for you, do you understand me?"

At the mention of 'this' Dimitri acknowledges my presence for the first time, gesturing to where I stand, cowering against the tree. But Jesse barely glances at me, and visibly gulps.

"Y-yes, sir!"

"Then get out of here!"

Dimitri abruptly lets him go, and gives him a push in the right direction. Eager to escape the really ripped, really angry Russian dude, Jesse skids on the leaves in his haste to get away, and is gone from view in approximately three seconds.

"And you," he begins, turning to face me while I await his tirade.

But it doesn't come. As soon as Dimitri looks at me, his expression changes to one of surprise. At first, I don't understand, but then I can hardly fail to notice as his eyes trail over my figure, lingering in certain areas. And the strangest part is, he's not checking for damage or assessing the situation or doing some other guardian calculation thing.

I'm standing here in my underwear, and Dimitri is checking me out.

I have to admit, I know I look good. The plus side of my ridiculously short stature is that I have more curves than your average Moroi girl, and they're definitely on display right now. Pair that with my exotic, desert princess features, and I'm the subject of countless fantasies for guys my age. Maybe a few girls, too. But Dimitri is something else.

With his age, different culture, and mysterious nature, I'd never actually thought that I would appeal to him. We're in different spheres, after all. He's my guardian, and his sense of duty must surely prevent him seeing me? It appears I was wrong.

Feeling his eyes on me, a flush spreads across my pale skin, and my breathing becomes heavy. Seriously, all he's doing is looking at me, and I think I'm more turned on than I have been in my life. The heaving of my chest is starting to become a problem, and I know we've both been staring for too long. I lift my chin slightly, and raise my eyebrow in an attempt to cover my vulnerability.

"Enjoying the view?"

My words break the spell, and he shakes off the mood. His face coalesces into anger once more.

"Get dressed," he orders, turning away from me.

"I can't. The rest of my clothes are back in the clearing."

Still averting his eyes, he mutters something in Russian and removes his jacket. "Here."

He almost throws it at me, but I oblige, and slide my arms into the sleeves. It's still warm from his body. His scent fills my nose in a way that is far too personal, considering the way he's just been looking at me. It's almost like an embrace, the feeling only intensified by the fact that it's way too big for me. I don't, however, get much time to enjoy it.

"Let's go," he says, brusquely, breaking my reverie.

"What?"

"I'm taking you back to the house."

Though his tone is commanding, I notice that he doesn't touch me. He could definitely speed up the process by treating me like Jesse, and I wonder if he's maybe not as unaffected by what passed as he's pretending to be.

"I don't have shoes either."

He swears under his breath.

I frown. "What does 'suka' mean?"

He narrows his eyes. "Never mind. Let's go."

I obey, and we set off, but our progress is slow because I'm barefoot. And when we finally exit the cover of the trees, another problem makes itself known.

The sun is now approaching its peak, and even with the protection of Dimitri's duster, after about five minutes my mouth is dry and I'm coated in sweat.

Fury lengthens his strides, setting a pace almost impossible for me to keep up with. My weakness irritates me, so I make no complaint, and we half run along in tense silence. Well, apart from the occasional stream of Russian profanity. I'm in agony between the sun and the exercise, but my innate sense of stubbornness won't allow me to ask him to slow down. It's a miracle when we finally make it back to the house, and even more miraculous that he goes to the trouble of sneaking me back inside, undetected.

Gratefully, I sink down onto my bed. But apparently, we're not done.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he asks, incredulous.

Angrily, I open my mouth, but he interrupts.

"I know the answer to that: you weren't thinking. So, what, you just got bored? Or were you trying to show everyone how little you care?" His tone is acidic, and I try to ignore the part of me that quails at his displeasure.

"Easy for you to say," I shoot back. "You didn't have to follow me."

"Yes, I did," he replies. "Because I knew that you were going to do something stupid. Getting into that kind of situation is just plain self-destructive, Rose."

"You know, I'm getting really sick of hearing that accusation. I was just having fun."

"And I'm getting really sick of hearing that excuse. You just keep playing the victim, Rose, but your act is tired."

"Playing the victim?" My anger burns worse than my thirst, making my words sharper than I ever imagined they could be. Especially to him. "You think I chose any of this? You think I want to be the Dragomir Princess?"

"Of course not. You make that perfectly clear, I assure a you. But here's a newsflash: nobody gets to choose their situation. You think I want to perpetually spend my time following a bratty teenage girl?"

Oddly enough, I'm fine with that assessment of me. Isn't that the image I strive for? A bratty teenage girl, I can be. The Dragomir Princess is another story.

"All that tells me is that we're both victims of a broken system. I might as well show everyone that I refuse to play my part."

His nostrils flare. "You don't even get what you're throwing away! If you don't like the system, then change it! How can you, of all people, not understand how lucky you are?"

"Then put on a wig, and you try to be me!" And, to my immense embarrassment, there are tears pooling in my eyes. I'm angry, I'm tired, my emotions are a wreck, and honestly? I'm done pretending.

"You try living, knowing that whatever you do will never be good enough! You try knowing that whatever you achieve will only be meeting the expectation that goes along with your existence! Performing your duty, giving up everything, and all to perpetuate this unbalanced society! I'm sure you'd do it much better than would...I'm sure anyone would do better."

This last sentence comes out in a whisper, and I address it to the floor. Bratty teenage girl indeed. I'm just not brave enough to look at him, to look up and see his expression while he figures out what to say.

Finally, he speaks, but I keep my eyes trained downward. "If you don't believe you're the right girl for the job, then I'm afraid that's just too bad."

Involuntarily, my eyes flick up to his face when I register his tone. Soft, almost tender, though I'm sure he doesn't mean anything by it. The movement dislodges a tear, and I feel it roll down my cheek.

"You are a Moroi that not only sees the inequality, but actually cares that it's there," he continues. "Do you know how unusual that is? And even more unlikely, if you just accept it, you have the power to change things, Rose! If you don't try, nobody will."

I sit in complete silence, for what must be the first time in my life, and turn this over in my mind. Maybe it's the situation, maybe it's my crush on him, or maybe it's something in the way they were delivered, as if to a friend. But slowly, his words filter through my hurt and denial, and they begin to make sense. The revelation must show on my face, and I'm sure that it must look pretty funny, but he keeps quiet, as usual. I don't think I've ever fully appreciated that quality of his before.

I can make a difference. I can use my position to make things better for April and the feeders. For Dimitri and the guardians. For myself, and for all Moroi, royal and non-royal alike. But, I am just one person.

"It's going to be hard."

He nods solemnly, as if it wasn't a painfully obvious statement.

"Where can I even start? There's so much…"

And he laughs. A proper, genuine laugh, from the man who hardly even smiles. Immediately, I wonder why he doesn't do it more often. It lights up his face, flashing his perfect teeth and making his eyes glitter.

"Why don't you start with your detention on Saturday?" he suggests, mirth still etched beautifully into the corners of his eyes.

"You're sad!" I burst out suddenly. Now that I've seen him laugh, the contrast to his normal expression couldn't be clearer.

His face resumes its normal expression, but it's too late.

"What do you mean?"

"Something happened, before you came here. It still makes you sad. What is it?"

There's a flash of something in his eyes. Wonder? Fear? "My previous charge, Ivan Zeklos, passed away."

"And you blame yourself." It's not a question. His tone made that perfectly clear. "Did it happen on your watch?"

Again, he looks surprised. "No. I was visiting my family in Russia. But I can't help wondering what would have happened, if I'd been there."

"Jesse's a Zeklos," I remember suddenly. "Did that bother you?"

He packs his emotions away once more, and shrugs. "It doesn't matter how I feel. They come first."

That guardian motto, spoken with such conviction, fills me with disgust. I won't be Ivan Zeklos. I know a thing or two about the weight of responsibility, and I refuse to make my protection weigh so heavily on Dimitri. He's right, I do have the power to change things. I have the power to learn how to protect myself. And I have powers that Dimitri, badass Russian god that he is, doesn't have.

"Will you train me?"

He doesn't laugh it off, which I take as a good sign. His brow furrows as he thinks it through, and then he barks out a question. "Why?"

"Well," I reply. "Lissa's right, I need an outlet. And I might as well make it something constructive. If I'm going to make a difference, maybe leading by example isn't such a bad way to begin.

* * *

Author's Note

* * *

 **Thank you so much for reading. Any form of feedback is very much welcome, good or bad. So please feel free to leave a review to let me know what you thought. I'm also not very good at posting regularly, so if you'd like to keep updated, please follow and/or favourite. This fic is also currently unBeta'd, so if you encounter any mistakes, I apologise.  
**

 **So I am genuinely terrible at posting. I am aware of this, and I am sorry. Life has a tendency to get in the way, and I find myself with far less time than I used to have, with all the recent changes. It's been a long time since I first read these books, and I ten to experience less enthusiasm than initially. However, I have no intention of giving up, and I promise that I will post when I can. Thank you so much for your patience and support.**

 **The VA universe and the characters therein are the intellectual property of Richelle Mead.**


	7. Chapter 7: Feel the Burn

A sharp knock on my door jerks me awake.

"Rose? You need to get up now. You'll be late for training."

Lifting my head, which seems to weigh about a hundred pounds, I silently question the soundness of my judgement last night.

Training? What was I thinking? Did I lose my mind?

Squinting, I peer around the room. My gaze settles incredulously upon a stream of sunlight coming through a chink in the curtain.

"The sun hasn't even set yet! I'm going back to sleep."

In the brief silence that ensues, I foolishly think I'm victorious. But no.

"I will stand here and knock every ten seconds until you're ready to train."

As if to prove his point, his knuckles hammer on the wood again. It's like he knows exactly how to make his knocking as loud and as irritating as possible, and I point this out when I stumble out the room five minutes later.

"Did they teach you that in school or something?" I ask, my sarcasm lost in the act of stifling a yawn.

My hair is a mess that I didn't want to deal with, so I just pulled it into a bun, and I'm not entirely sure that I did a thorough enough job with my toothbrush. I look like I just rolled out of bed, wearing a rumpled t-shirt and the yoga pants I bought because they make my ass look good.

"No," he smirks, expecting me to follow as he walks away. "I just have sisters."

I get the full opportunity to ogle him as I stumble along in his wake. Maybe he really is a Disney princess. Dressed in a sweatshirt and loose running pants, beneath that ever present, infernal duster, he looks like he had the most refreshing sleep ever, and woke up with sunlight and birdsong. Talk about bright eyed and bushy tailed. I just have the 'bushy' part.

Looking at him now, I suppose my crush is not entirely my fault. He's just too damn attractive. I can't help myself.

"You have sisters?" I ask, to distract myself from that train of thought.

"Yes. Three."

Somehow, it had never occurred to me that he could have a family. How could it be that this stoic, Russian badass was once a child? I mean obviously he didn't just spring into existence, leather coat and all. The prospect intrigues me, far too much for my own good, if truth be told. But then, I've never been very good at holding my tongue.

"Last night, you said they're in Russia?"

He frowns thoughtfully, making me aware that he's uncomfortable talking about himself in this manner. But whereas previously my impertinence would be rewarded with more silence, or a noncommittal answer, now I receive a response.

"Yes. My youngest sister, Viktoria, is only a year younger than you are."

Beneath his discomfort, there's a softness to his expression that I've never seen before, and I probably wouldn't notice if I wasn't watching so closely. It's clear to me that he's proud of his sister, and that he loves his family deeply. Somehow, without me realising, the events of last night have initiated a change in our relationship, and he's letting me peek through the cracks.

I no longer see him as my good-looking assigned guardian, here to babysit me. He's obviously still extremely attractive, but now that I know a little more about his personality, I realise that he strikes me as someone who may be worthy of my respect. And from the way that he seems to be opening up a little more, maybe he no longer just sees me as his charge.

With a flicker of unease, I recall the way he looked at me last night, and the feeling said look evoked in me. There are definitely shifting paradigms over here, and I can only hope that they don't cause a landslide that will crush me beneath its weight.

Once we reach the gym however, it's back to business. That guardian mask slides seamlessly over Dimitri's face once more, and I experience a pang of sadness to see that side of him packed away, out of my reach again. But I stand before him, and do my best to pull on my serious face while I await instructions. From the look he gives me, I'm not very successful.

I stand there, at a loss, not knowing what to expect. In my discomfort, I begin idly swinging my arms back and forth by my sides.

"What are those?" Dimitri asks sharply.

It takes me a second to follow the direction of his gaze, down to my hands, which I stop swinging abruptly. He's talking about the small pink marks on my palms, each one perfectly aligned to its corresponding finger. Burn marks, almost healed.

"Nothing."

Honestly, what else could I say? That the pain distracts me? He already thinks I'm self-destructive, and he already knows what they are.

"Well, next time you feel like doing 'nothing,' tell me, and we can come and train instead."

I nod, and we don't say another word on the subject.

By comparison to what the dhampirs do in training, I suppose Dimitri goes easy on me. I feel as though he's testing me, learning my limits so that he can push me just a little beyond them. He starts me off doing weights, but the problem is that even with him being lenient, I'm pretty much hopeless.

"Okay, let's start out with something easy."

I try to lift my arms, but they may as well be tied down.

"Come on, just lift them."

Honestly, I'm starting to sweat with the strain. "I can't."

"It's 10 pounds. You can't lift 10 pounds?"

I roll my eyes. "Apparently my arms are decorative."

"Hmm. Apparently. Okay, try these."

It turns out that I can't lift 5 pounds either, which forces Dimitri to remove the weights altogether, and I just work with the bar. As ridiculous as it is, he's remarkably patient, demonstrating what he wants me to do and how many times to do it, while I try to avoid staring at his muscles.

And I have to admit, even though initially I feel really stupid, after a few minutes I find a rhythm. He leaves me to my own devices, retreating to a nearby corner and folding himself up on one of the exercise mats. He produces some battered novel from the depths of his duster, and I'm forced to stifle a grin at the Mary Poppins flashbacks this evokes.

I turn my attention away from him with immense effort, trying to focus instead on the feeling of my limbs and muscles as I work to complete the given task. It starts becoming oddly satisfying, in a weird way, and I barely seem to exist outside of the movement and effort of the exercise. And then it becomes tiring. And then painful.

By the time Dimitri allows me to stop, it has long passed that point. My legs and shoulders burn like they've been exposed to sunlight, and it's all I can do not to collapse onto the mat. My arms hang limply by my sides, as though disconnected entirely from the rest of me. I'm puffing like a steam train.

"Well," I say breathily, between two huge gasps of air. "That was educational."

He frowns down at me, from his lofty height. "Was?"

My heart plummets into my stomach.

"You can't mean…are you telling me we're not done yet?"

There's a glint of laughter in his eyes, and he lets loose one tiny smile that takes away what little breath I'd managed to catch.

"That was just the warm up."

By the end of the hour, I'm fervently wishing that I'd never gotten out of bed. I wish I'd never mentioned any of this to Dimitri. But somehow, I can't bring myself to wish I'd never met him.

"This is worse than detention," I groan. "I hurt all over."

Suppressing a smile, he replies, "You'll feel worse tomorrow."

"How is that helpful?"

"You'd rather I lie to you?"

"No. But I'd also rather have remained ignorant of the fact that there are muscles in my elbows."

He rolls his eyes. "I did tell you yesterday that this wouldn't be easy."

"I know," I grumble. "I was just unaware of how not easy."

We're walking to the cafeteria. Or rather, he's walking and I'm limping along, somewhat resembling a zombie.

"On the plus side, at least you won't be climbing any more walls in the near future."

Now it's my turn to roll my eyes, but the effect is marred by an involuntary wince as I'm forced to climb the single step at the cafeteria entrance.

"It's going to get worse before it gets better," he informs me, but I'm distracted by the hand he places on my back to steady me.

Our eyes meet for a fraction of a second, and then he tears both his gaze and touch away. Without another word, he heads off to stand with the other guardians.

Despite the aches that I know I'm only beginning to feel, as I make my way to my usual table, I feel as light as air.

Even though we spent an hour in the gym this morning, the early start ensured that I'm still in the cafeteria before I normally would be. It's relatively empty, in fact, and even Lissa isn't here yet. So, even though I went yesterday, I decide to take advantage of this time and pay another visit to the feeders. Something tells me that I could use some extra strength right now.

I tell my name to the clipboard lady, who sends me straight inside. The perks of being early, I guess. I can sense Dimitri's eyes on me as I walk into the feeding room, but I try not to think about it too much, because it brings back memories that I really shouldn't be dwelling on.

I get April again, and we pass a few preliminary minutes in friendly conversation. It turns out she really enjoyed the CD I gave her, and it makes me feel good to have made her happy. Maybe it's the time of the morning, and the fact that she's still relatively sober, but as I move towards her neck, April fixes me with a strangely maternal gaze.

"You be sure to take enough this time, okay? Else I'll tell that tall man of yours."

My face reddens, but I nod and get down to business.

When I go back through to the cafeteria, Lissa still hasn't surfaced, and barely anyone else has either. However, our usual table is not empty, and I'm a little uneasy as I take my normal seat, opposite none other than Christian Ozera.

I figure that since he's the one who sought me out, at _my_ table, it's only fair that he should be the one to speak first. But apparently, waiting for him to speak first has issued some kind of challenge, and I find myself staring levelly at his face in slightly awkward silence. I've never actually noticed what cool eyes he has; this clear, piercing blue.

I speak without thinking, "You know, in seventy years, if you grow a beard, you could become Albus Dumbledore."

He blinks. "Wow. Your brain must be a weird place to exist."

I grin.

"So, you're probably wondering what I'm doing in this neck of the woods."

"Well yeah."

"It's kind of about yesterday."

"Oh, that," I reply, feeling a little awkward. "You don't have to thank me."

He breaks into a sarcastic smile, not bothering to hide his fangs. "I wasn't going to."

I roll my eyes. "Well now I know exactly why you're at my table."

"I'm not saying thank you, but I will acknowledge that you intervened before I did something really stupid."

I suppose it's the best I can hope for.

"As a trouble maker, I'm fairly qualified to recognise the signs," I say. "Were you going to set her on fire?"

His eyes narrow. "Maybe."

"Damn. I would have liked to see that."

He snickers. "Actually, it may be something I can show you sometime."

I'll be honest; I'm intruiged. He looks like he's going to say more, but Lissa chooses that exact moment to sit down next to me, and he bites his tongue. At first, she doesn't even notice him. Then comes a double take.

"Oh. Er, hi." Surprise lends her voice an additional octave.

Christian nods, and gives me a look that clearly communicates that we'll finish our conversation later. To Lissa, he presents a sarcastic smile, and then rises from the table without another word.

She turns to me, clearly bewildered. "What was that all about?"

"Beats me," I shrug. "He never really got to the point."

Lissa frowns as she considers this, then shakes her head, and moves on. "Why were you even in here this early, in any case?"

"Oh, uh, I had training with Dimitri."

"You had _what?_ "

I roll my eyes. "Training. Like in a gym."

She remains speechless, and I begin to feel self-conscious.

"Could you please pass me my spoon?"

"Why? It's right there on your tray?"

"It's just that I don't think my arms work right now."

By making her laugh, the tension breaks. I think she could sense my discomfort, and we move on to other topics of conversation. I fill her in on the events of last night, conveniently forgetting to mention the moment between Dimitri and me. Then the bell goes, and it's time to go.

My legs feel weak and shaky, and I let out an involuntary groan as I stand up. How am I going to survive today? I shuffle over to the exit, walking like I'm eighty. I'm trying to summon the necessary effort to sling my backpack on when somebody removes it from my hand.

"Hey!"

"What?" Dimitri raises an eyebrow, swiftly pulling the strap over his own shoulder.

"You're my guardian, not my valet. You don't have to do that."

"I know. But you look like you could use some help."

The smile is back in his eyes, clearer than usual, and very distracting. Still, I don't like being reminded of how weak I am, and I choose to keep quiet. Not that it helps.

"Be patient," he says, as though reading my mind. "You'll get stronger. It's only day one."

"Only day one," I groan, trying not to think about how much I'll hurt tomorrow.

But when he grins in response, I'm forced to conclude that there are definitely some perks to this new regime. I would love to see his smile every day.

* * *

Author's Note

* * *

 **As always, thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, or didn't, please let me know by leaving a review! It's always fantastic to read your input, and I really love hearing from you. Apologies once again for my infrequent updating. If you'd like to keep up with posts, please feel free to favourite and follow. This fic is also currently unBeta'd, so there are probably mistakes, for which I am sorry. If you find any, please call my attention to them, so that I may correct them.  
**

 **I guess I've just been lacking motivation recently, and I'm sorry. Things are happening too quickly. But I shall endeavour to keep on going. I am enjoying writing this story, but I'm also running out of ideas. So like, I don't know when the next update will be, and it could be a while.  
**

 ** **The VA universe and the characters therein are the intellectual property of Richelle Mead.****


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